


For The Preservation Of The Species

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Impregnation, Body Horror, Comforting Dean Winchester, Drugged Castiel (Supernatural), Evil Arthur Ketch, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Other, Protective Dean Winchester, Scared Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 13:44:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Unbeknownst to the bunker family, Ketch has been working at the BMOL HQ, continuing his organisation’s work.And within the R&D department is a type of creature whose existence as a species is worth preserving.But they can only reproduce with the aid of a certain creature to bear their eggs.Luckily for Ketch, an opportunity presents itself.





	For The Preservation Of The Species

**Author's Note:**

> Cas is injured in this which gives Ketch the right circumstances to do something unspeakable.
> 
> Dean makes it to the rescue, in time, but it’s a very close call, with Ketch’s specimen touching Cas in inappropriate areas before the angel realises what’s going on.

“You dumbass angel,” Dean said. He kicked the door shut behind them, and got Cas to the top of the stairs, before yelling down for his brother.

Sam appeared, took one look at them, and came rushing up to help. “What happened?”

Dean was happy to share his burden of six foot angel with his much bigger brother. “Wendigo slammed him _through_ a tree. Might have a broken wing.”

Cas turned a look on him that was all pain, and only some of it was physical. The rest, Dean could tell, was at the possibility of losing him.

“Better my wing than your neck.” And then the angel’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he went dead weight on them.

They carried him carefully downstairs, and to the infirmary, and set him down on one of the beds.

++

When Ketch got the phone call, he made sure his GPS was still switched off before answering.

Just in case. The Winchesters trusted him, now, but they were far too canny to let that stop them from implementing safeguards.

He knew people they’d trusted before had let them down, or turned on them, and since Ketch was in a position to do both (when it suited him, not before) he had no intention of making it too easy for them.

“Sam,” he said.

“Uh, Ketch, you know you said you had some medical equipment in your old HQ that could be adapted for angels?”

Ketch nodded. He was standing in that HQ now, albeit a part of the premises secured behind a hidden door that had remained unnoticed and therefore undisturbed by Sam’s little militia years before.

He had made sure the power stayed on, and been cataloguing the contents ever since, and continuing with what work he could.

“Is there something there that might fix a busted wing?”

Ketch smiled. He knew the deity commonly referred to as ‘God’ existed, but viewed him as simply higher up the food chain than the rest of the vampires and werewolves and angels.

Another creature. The ultimate creature, until their ever expanding knowledge proved him wrong, but still.

It seemed however, that either this God, or perhaps fate in general (word had it she had no liking for one angel in particular) had chosen today to do him a favour.

“I have just the thing in mind,” he said.

And not just for repairing that halo’s wing.

++

The contraption Ketch brought with him looked like something out of a Victorian hospital, and Dean was initially tempted to tell the Brit to take it and stick it up his ass.

But a glare from Sam silenced him; Ketch wasn’t a fool. He was in the bunker with two armed, protective hunters; he wouldn’t dare do anything to Cas that would get him beat up at best, shot in the head at worst.

So they let Ketch use it, helping where they could (though that was mostly to persuade Cas to let Ketch touch him, and to soothe him when the pain got too bad, and to hold him down at one point which Dean knows they had to do but probably won’t ever forgive himself for).

When it was done, the brace held Cas’s wing in a kind of folded position against his back, keeping the bone he’d broken in place to heal.

He even had painkillers with him, sedatives that would help Cas through the worst of the healing period, thought they could be expected to make him drowsy.

Dean still had a strongly negative opinion when it came to Cas and drugs, especially drugs brought to them by Ketch, but the Brit could have refused to help them.

He could have refused to help them any of the other times, since he came back from the dead, but he hadn’t.

Dean took the pills, but pocketed them. If Cas was hurting bad enough, Dean would try to get him to take some, but he’d be strictly rationing just how many.

Sam looked at Ketch.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said. “You, uh…. You had a long drive. You want to stay tonight?”

Ketch did look tired. He nodded gratefully. “That’s most kind, Sam. I will.”

++

Looking after a wounded angel must have exhausted both Winchesters. After Dean moved Cas to their room (and he wasn’t surprised to learn that the hunter was now fucking the angel; he was surprised it had taken him this long, but he was also worried that it might affect his little experiment), and Dean had persuaded (with some encouragement from both Sam and Ketch) the angel to accept some pain relief, the three of them turned in and that left Ketch up and alone.

He was very quick, but very quiet, when he removed the small tank from the boot of his car.

And very careful, as well. There were only three more viable specimens after this one and then, as far as Ketch knew, they would be extinct.

Unless he made a success of tonight, of course, in which case he would need to move quickly but the species might find itself making a resurgence.

He had to bide his time, and loiter in the corridor outside the hunter and the angel’s room, but Dean was only human, and human males of his age generally did not make it through the night without needing to empty their bladder.

All Ketch had to do then was hope his little pet could be quick.

As soon as Dean got up, stumbling clumsily in the half lit corridors, Ketch set his case down long enough to open the door, and set the creature free, and then he quickly retreated into the shadows.

++

The painkillers helped, though not enough. They took the edge off, but they drowned Cas in a fuzziness that made resting uneasy. Everything felt distant, and unreal, and he knew he had a fever setting in, but once his wing healed that would go away.

In the meantime, all he wanted was Dean to hold onto, so he knew at least one thing around him was real, was actually _there_.

He shivered as he felt something touch his leg, gliding gently upwards, an odd sensation. It slipped up the leg of his boxers, sneaking closer, and Cas made a low sound of protest.

Dean could be insatiable sometimes, but now? Much as Cas enjoyed it when Dean took him, let that animal side of himself take charge and claim, tonight was not the night for it, and he turned away with a moan of protest.

“Dean, please,” he said, when after a moment’s hesitation, the touching continued, and Dean was actually pressing at his entrance. “Dean, stop. I…. I can’t.”

But Dean seemed to have plans. His touch was slick, insistent, and….strange.

Something was wrong, but Cas’s head wouldn’t clear enough to work out what.

Perhaps Dean was trying to help. He’d read that sex released endorphins could help with pain, but he also knew Dean’s strong views on sleeping with someone under the influence, no matter how partial, of alcohol or drugs.

Cas decided he would simply need to be more firm, and reached down beneath the blankets to push Dean’s hand away.

Except…. That wasn’t Dean.

++

Dean staggered blearily back to bed, only stubbing his toe once when he didn’t quite make a corner. He felt drained of every last drop of energy; between finishing off the wendigo, and half carrying Cas back to the car, getting him home, and then resetting the wing and forcing it into that torture device Ketch brought….

He wasn’t sure how many more days like this he had in him. He wasn’t getting any younger, and the fact that his bladder liked to wake him up twice a night now and then make him coax the piss out of it when he finally hit the john was only confirming things.

Maybe it was time to retire. From the active side of hunting, anyway. They could pull a Bobby; this place had everything they needed to make a nerve centre, and they could train more hunters as well as support the ones already out there.

It was something to consider, while the three of them were still together and well enough to enjoy it.

But not tonight. Tonight he wanted to just go back to bed, and hold his angel, and think of how he’d get Cas through the next week or so it’d take his wing to heal up.

He was just at the door, when he heard Cas mutter his name, and he didn’t sound happy. And then he felt something slick under his foot, and looked down.

Even in the night time lighting, there was what looked like a giant slug trail on the floor.

Dean grimaced when he realised he was standing right in it, but then he saw where it led.

Into their room.

He shoved the door open, cautious, but the flashlight and gun he kept for emergencies were both by his bed, a good few feet away, and surely even as he was, Cas would have known if something weird had gotten in the bunker and was crawling around…

The slime trail was visible around the bed leg, leading up the mattress and then under the covers.

And Dean could see something moving around in there that definitely wasn’t Cas.

Just as he grabbed the blankets, Cas shot up in panic, and started kicking his way further up the bed, scrabbling to get away from...something…

Dean pulled the blankets away with one hand, and threw the light switch with the other.

++

Ketch hid the case, and did a very good job of coming out of his room looking like his sleep had been disturbed.

He could hear the shouting, and the distressed sound of an angel in panic, and then Sam was running past him with a shovel holding what was left of the specimen.

It looked like someone had battered it to death with a heavy object; its tentacles hung limp and bloody and Ketch was able to see one of them distended with eggs, what would have been a promising sign.

Too bad.

He made the appropriate remarks of concern, few of which were answered by Sam, except to say that something had gotten in and attacked Cas in the night.

Ketch made his way to the room, and saw a bloody flashlight on the floor, a smeared trail up on the bed, and general signs of disarray.

He followed the voices.

They were coming from the bathroom.

The door was open, and Dean was in there trying to calm Castiel.

The angel’s hand was glowing and he had lifted up the tee shirt he was wearing, and pushed down his boxers enough to uncover his abdomen.

That blue light roved over his skin and there were some tense moments until the angel sagged against the older Winchester.

“You okay?”

Cas nodded. “It didn’t…. I’m fine. You were in time.”

Dean hugged Cas to him. “What the hell was that thing?” Then he seemed to realise Ketch was standing there.

“Go make yourself useful,” he said. “Go help Sam, and close that damn door.”

Ketch did, and listened for a moment as Cas explained about a creature that could only reproduce by impregnating angelic vessels.

If only he knew the entire breeding programme their R&D department had built around him. These specimens were too rare to be allowed to die out; their venom, once harvested, had a myriad of uses, that made it more than worthwhile to try and snatch the Winchesters’ angel.

And now, they were one less in number.

Ketch sighed, and went after Sam. He would have to be extra supportive the next few days, but not overplay it. Questions would be asked, of how that thing got into the bunker, and Ketch was sure he could concoct some explanation that would satisfy.

After all, there were so few angels these days; only natural any surviving members of the creature’s race would hunt down what celestials they could find, and for something that size, there were drains to crawl up through, ventilation shafts to use, any number of ways in past wards and locked doors.

Clearly, introducing one into the bunker wouldn’t work.

But Ketch was already forming another plan.

If he could get Cas away from Winchesters with blunt objects, and then tie him down so he couldn’t escape….

Well, then nature (twisted and perverted as it was in this instance) would be able to take its course.

And Ketch would be there to help.


End file.
